The City Is At War
by drowning in technicolor dreams
Summary: AU:"It breaks my heart to see, another tragedy/stick around and see how it ends." Massie/Dylan/Claire/Nikki/Skye/Kristen/Alicia/Todd/Cam/Derrick/Plovert/Abeley/Josh/Kemp. Oh, the life we live in Westchester.
1. oh, hello there

**Okay, so yeah. I'm finding it extremely difficult to cope with Let's Get These Teen Hearts Beating Faster, so I'm discontinuing it, and replacing it with this. So, yeah. Sorry and thank you to everyone who alerted, favorite-d, and reviewed. Really, really sorry. But, you know, I think this might be better. **

**It's kind of an exaggerated story of a group of people who are all problematic and dramatic and shiz. I drew inspiration from a lot of shows(that I will not mention in fear of being compared to them. And, dude, I don't stand a chance against these shows) and my own imagination. I have no idea if this will work or not, as it is an over-the-top experiment. Like, seriously. They're a serious bunch of misfits and fuck-ups, and I don't think it's realistic, but whatever. It's fun. **

**Title is from The City is at War by Cobra Starship…and the summary, too…**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own it. This will be applied to all chapters, to everything that needs to be disclaimed.**

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**oh, what a beautiful tragedy we've become  
**_you'll cry painted tears while I inhale secondhand smoke_

Westchester, New York. Home of Briarwood-Octavian Academy and its students. Beautiful, dirty rich, notorious students. Oh, yes. Infamous for their breathtaking good looks, hard partying ways, and the rumors that start and surround their reputation, their names are now unforgettable in Westchester's adolescent society.

_Claire Lyons. Skye Hamilton. Alicia Rivera. Nikki Dalton. Kristen Gregory. Todd Lyons. Cam Fisher. Derrick Harrington. Chris Abeley. Kemp Hurley. Chris Plovert. Josh Hotz._

As with most stories like these, either someone comes back…or someone new comes to town.

Enter Dylan Marvil and Massie Block.

**Massie Block**  
(I hate being home.)

_Honey, really? Running away? Of course it would have consequences. Karma's a bitch, after all._

/

**Dylan Marvil**  
(I miss being home.)

_You should know that not everyone wants you back. _

/

**Claire Lyons**  
(I have to be pretty. I just have to.)

_Trust me, darling. It's not worth it._

/

**Skye Hamilton  
**(I have to keep my balance. Love equals no balance.)

_Sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down. That's life._

/

**Alicia Rivera**  
(I'll tell him. Someday.)

_No secret is kept hidden. Especially if it's_ that _big._

/

**Nikki Dalton**  
(I don't do. I deal.)

_She gets the pills from the skills,  
She gets the skills from the pills._

_Sound familiar to you?_

/

**Kristen Gregory**  
(I'm always on top, and no one can bring me down.)

_Oh, really?_

/

**Todd Lyons**  
(I care. Sometimes.)

_I'm expecting everyone to fall in love with you._

/

**Cameron Fisher**  
(…)

_Strong and silent. What a cliché you are.  
(But I kind of have a thing for clichés, you know?)_

/

**Derrick Harrington**  
(I party. Like it's the end of the world.)

_Party like it's the end of the world is a song lyric, not a life motto, idiot._

/

**Christopher Abeley**  
(I'm Chris Abeley. Pleasure to meet you.)

_Golden boy. Psh. So what?_

/

**Kemp Hurley**  
(I'm gonna take care of you, babe.)

_Just a warning: Hugh Hefner is creepy, okay? Not really an ideal role model._

/

**Christopher Plovert**  
(I don't really handle pressure well.)

_It's hot in here, isn't it?_

/

**Josh Hotz**  
(I don't think anyone would ever understand me.)  
_  
Well, you're an unfortunate soul, aren't you?_

Massie Block. Dylan Marvil. Claire Lyons. Skye Hamilton. Alicia Rivera. Nikki Dalton. Kristen Gregory. Todd Lyons. Cam Fisher. Derrick Harrington. Chris Abeley. Kemp Hurley. Chris Plovert. Josh Hotz.

Watch them paint an intricate abstract of secrets and lies.

_Oh, the life we live in Westchester._

**If you may have noticed, I used part of the beginning of Let's Get These Teen Hearts Beating Faster. I cannot really say why I used it, because I don't really know. I just felt like it.**

**And this preview/trailer thing might not make sense or anything. Just to clarify: the ones in parentheses are things the character says, and the italicized things are what someone says to them. The someone is like a sort of Gossip Girl, even if I'm not actually gonna put a Gossip Girl in the story. It's just something for the trailer/preview**

**And the song I used for Nikki is Newport Living by Cute Is What We Aim For. And Derrick? 2012, by Jay Sean. I don't really know the song, but I researched the lyrics!**


	2. o n e

**Titles are whatever. Whatever I'm listening to ;)**

**(The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage – Panic! At the Disco)**

**Okay, some of the guys' features I changed, because they were never really mentioned, and I'm too lazy to go through all the books just to find out what they look like.**

**And yes, there will be cursing. Can't help it. Some curse words just fit so well with the dialogue and situation…**

**-x-**

**I'm the narrator, and this is just the prologue**_**  
**__swear to shake it up if you swear to listen  
oh, we're still so young, desperate for attention_

**SCHOOL THEATER BURNS DOWN**

_Firefighters arrived at Briarwood-Octavian Academy last night after school security guards and concerned residents of the surrounding town reported a fire in the school grounds. The fire was located in the school's theater, and took nearly six hours to bring down._

_When the flames finally died down, half of the famous school's state-of-the-art theater was completely destroyed, including the main auditorium where performances and school assemblies are held. Luckily, it was night time, and no one was injured, or worse._

_When asked about the fire, a concerned resident answered, "It was very lucky that some of us were still awake, or that fire might've caused more destruction! The school should take care and not overlook anything! My daughter goes to that school, and she is very distressed right now."_

"_I was just sitting there in my room, looking over some papers, when I saw this bright light. I looked out the window, and I was surprised by a huge fire engulfing part of the school!" said another resident._

_Police and firefighters are now investigating the source of the fire, and they say that they're leaning towards arson, a punishable crime._

"_We've been investigating since last night. None of the electrical wires and equipment were damaged—except after they were burned, of course—and they could not have started the fire. Security guards also say that there were absolutely no lights open inside the theater, air-conditioning was off, there were certainly no candles or stoves inside, nothing that could have accidentally started a fire. Which leaves intentionally starting a fire. Arson," said police officer Brian Williams._

_The Principal and the school's Board of Trustees refuse to give a comment regarding this possible crime. They are now organizing the rebuilding of the school theater, and construction will begin immediately._

Massie Block placed the newspaper back on the many magazine racks in the waiting area of the Westchester County Train Station, sighing. The article was from a year ago, and last year, Stephen was still studying in Briarwood-Octavian Academy. She wonders if it affected him at all. _Probably not_, she decides. _He was never one for theater and the performing arts._

She looked at her watch; fifteen minutes has gone by since she arrived in Westchester, and she thinks she's rested enough. She stood up and grabbed her bags, walking out into the September air. She closed her eyes for a minute, taking in the winds of the fall before setting off.

-x-

_It's not a bad place to live in_,she thought to herself as she looked at the modest house of her older brother, Stephen. It was slightly bigger than an average two-story house, with a garage and a front yard. She blinked up at the small balcony on one side of the house; the sliding door was open, and the dark blue curtains were blowing out.

She walked briskly up the front steps, dragging her luggage noisily behind her. She took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. A few minutes passed. Nothing happened. She rang the doorbell again. This time, she could hear a distinctly male voice yelling, "I'm on my way!" and a few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a stranger.

_You idiot, Massie, of course Stephen would have friends over. He was never one for being alone, _she mentally reprimanded herself before giving a smile to the stranger. He flicked his dirty blonde hair out of his caramel eyes and gave her the once-over, and she noticed his eyes stray over to her luggage. "Is Stephen here?" she asked. He looked surprised when he heard Massie's voice, and she knew why. Everyone was surprised by her slightly hoarse, rough voice; they always expected a high, girly voice.

"Wait," he said, recovering and giving a curious glance at her luggage before turning around and yelling, "STEPHEN! SOME GIRL'S LOOKING FOR YOU!"

Then, finally, she heard her brother's familiar voice approaching. "Who?" he asked the dirty-blonde boy. "Derrick, if this is another—" He stopped when he saw Massie standing in his doorway. "Oh, shit," he blurted, his eyes widening in shock.

Massie didn't say anything, just gave him one of her signature smirks.

Stephen stared at her for a while, before their situation registered in his brain. "Oh—oh, yeah, sorry. Come in. Derrick, take her luggage inside."

"What?" the other boy asked incredulously.

"Hey, you're in my house, you do what I say."

Massie followed Stephen into the house, and she glanced around. Well, it wasn't that messy. It wasn't that clean either. It was okay. Until she saw the living room. It was full of boys, boys that looked about her age, crowding around the 41-inch flat screen TV. Half-empty bags of chips were littering the floor, and there were a bunch of crushed cups on the rug. Massie counted two spilled sodas. And the coffee table. Oh, the coffee table. There was an open box of pizza, on top of another open box of pizza, on top of another open box of pizza. There were more chips here, and more soda cups, and crumpled-up foil wrappers of chocolate bars, and actual chocolate bars. It was a mess. It was a boy's paradise.

"Where do I put this?" Derrick asked, catching the attention of the whole room. They all looked at Derrick; at the luggage he was carrying, then at Massie. And they stared. Massie could feel it. But, she was used to it. Then, they seemed to realize that a girl was standing in the same room they were, and some of them straightened up; some of them frowned, sure that they would be asked to leave or clean-up; and some of them looked confusedly at Massie, then at Stephen, then back to Massie, then back to Stephen.

"Leave it there, Derrick," Stephen said.

"Who's the chick?" a boy with light brown hair asked Stephen.

"This "chick" is my sister," Stephen said, and all of them looked surprised. They all looked at Massie again. And stared again.

"You have a sister?" a boy with curly, coffee-brown hair said, looking at Stephen with a disbelieving expression on his face, but his eyes were on Massie.

"Yes, Kemp, I have a sister," Stephen deadpanned.

"But I thought you were—"

"Disowned?" Stephen said, finishing the sentence. "Yes, I am. That doesn't mean I turned into an only child."

"But then, if you're disowned," a wheat blonde boy asked. "What is she doing here?"

"I have no idea myself," Stephen said, glancing at Massie. "Which is why no one will go into the kitchen while I talk to her."

Stephen turned around and headed towards the opposite direction, and Massie followed without glancing back at the boys in the living room, failing to see that they were all staring at her.

"What are you doing here, Massie?" Stephen asked once he reached the kitchen. Massie looked around instead of answering. It wasn't a bad kitchen. It was clean enough, and it was bright. Massie opened a door that turned out to be the pantry. She went inside and looked at all the food. There were cereal boxes, bags of chips and cookies and stuff, canned goods and other stuff. She would never go hungry in this house. She grabbed a Pop-Tart and went out again, to see that Stephen was waiting patiently for her answer. It has always amazed her how he's the only person who can stand her silence.

She opened the Pop-Tart and bit into it, not bothering to heat it. She sat down on the island counter and took three bites before answering. "Ran away."

Stephen looked surprised, but expectant. Like he knew she was going to run away, but he never knew it would be now. "Nobody knows?" he asked, already accepting the fact that his younger sister ran away to him. When Massie's mind was set, there was no stopping her.

"Nobody," she said, taking another bite of the Pop-Tart.

"How'd you find me?"

"Asked Adam, your best friend."

"I told him not to tell anyone where I was!" Stephen said incredulously.

"Stole his phone and got your number, you idiot. Made some PI track it here. Deleted your number from his phone," Massie said, taking another bite of Pop Tart.

"You made a PI track it?"

"Wore contact lenses and a blonde wig. Signed my name as Ashley Goode."

Stephen breathed a sigh of relief while Massie bit into the Pop-Tart.

"Why'd you run away?" Stephen asked.

Massie gave him a look that clearly said "Isn't it obvious?"

"I mean, I know it was because of _them, _but what did they do that brought it over? What finally pushed you over the edge?"

"Father wanted me to date the son of some tycoon," Massie said, scowling.

"To get a deal?" Stephen asked knowingly.

Massie gave him a look that clearly said "Yes."

"And the guy was?"

"Some dude. Never met him. Heard he was fucking hot, fucking stupid, and fucking annoying," she said bitterly.

"Nice," Stephen said. "I wonder what's going on back there. Father has no more children to order around. Me, disowned at seventeen. You, running away at seventeen, two years later. Clearly seventeen-year-olds are not his forte."

Massie smirked. "Probably worried about press."

"Of course," Stephen said bitterly. "Worry about the media, not about his children. Wait. Oh yeah. He'll be worried about his empire too. A disowned heir and a runaway heiress. Now he has no one to pass the family business to."

Massie didn't say anything, just bit into his Pop-Tart.

"What's going on back there?"

"Father's fucking secretaries and Mother doesn't care about anything. Didn't see her for a whole week before I ran away," Massie said, dropping the last piece of Pop-Tart in her mouth. "The last name's Stonewood, right?"

"Yeah," Stephen said. "Why?"

"Marissa Elizabeth Stonewood," Massie said, adopting the fake last name of her brother. Before Stephen left, him and her father had a deal. Her father would give him money for his new life if he adopted a fake last name. Stephen was happy to oblige.

"Pick a room upstairs. I'll force someone to bring your luggage up."

-x-

Meanwhile, a few blocks away from the "Stonewood" residence, there was a familiar redhead opening the locked door of her spacious, empty house. She dragged her luggage in and breathed in the smell of her home. It smelled the same, except it now had the smell of a place that was empty for at least a year.

She opened every door and every window, letting in the sunlight. She smiled as she looked around at her home.

"Home, sweet Westchester," Dylan Marvil said.

**I don't really know what the name of Westchester's train station is, or if it even has a train station, so I made it up. And trains are cool. **

**I made that article sound as journalistic as I can. See? Even if I don't really listen in Journalism class, I still retain things! Like, the average sentences per paragraph is one, and the first paragraph has to give the important details of the story! But, I'm still not cut out for the career of a journalist. No real creative freedom if you're writing news stories. I prefer fictional stories; how about you?**

**Leave me something ;)**


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